I Miss You

When the poet laments of unrequited love and unfulfilled opportunity,
When the artist paints a longing heart and yearning breast,
When the writer tells of a broken heart, clumsy speech and misunderstanding,
I think of you and I miss you.

When the band plays an alternate beat that matches our rhythm,
When the road leads me to the path you once travelled,
When the right wing is out of balance with the left wing,
I think of you and I miss you.

For we shared so many loves except the only one that really matters,
So the longing continues. The emptiness won’t subside
I dream of holding your hand and our hearts being entwined.

For the story should have ended with you being mine.
The artist should have painted lovers being kind.
And the poet’s verse should have been sweet and divine
For me share a love of many things except for the one that really matters.

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